A Past Long Forgotten
by hasapi
Summary: [ABANDONED] Rory's grandfather gives her a journal written in the early 1800s by one of their ancestors, Lissa Guillame. What Rory finds makes her question her beliefs...including whether she believes in fate. Prologue


**A/N:** I came up with this story during my English class. In the class we read translated stories, like Homer's _Odyssey_, and Lope de Vega's three-act play, _Fuente_ Ovejuna_. I was wondering what would happen if I took the story of our favorite _Gilmore Girls_ and put it into a medieval context, and this is what I got._

Okay, that was what I did originally. Now this is taking place during the Victorian era. 

Unfortunately, right now I have about ten _Harry Potter fics going (and another ten in planning), five original stories, and the summer session is going to start next week. So updates are going to be sparse, but I promise I will eventually finish this. I have already started the first chapter (this is the prologue)._

THIS IS THE THIRD TIME I have posted this chapter. Sorry, but I finally figured out the plot so I had to change this again. Minor modifications have been made; Rory is now a sophomore in college, although summer is just about here, so she'll be a junior soon. Also, pay attention to what's happened to her boyfriends…

**Rating:** PG-13, mostly precautionary

**Pairing:** R/D, R/J, R/T

**My Big Fat (English) Disclaimer:** These characters are not mine. They are owned by Amy Sherman-Palladino and the WB. They are portrayed onscreen by Alexis Bledel, Lauren Graham, Milo Ventimiglia, Scott Patterson, etc, etc ….

**********

_Prologue_

Lorelai and Rory Gilmore walked into the elder Gilmores' house and followed Emily to the parlor. It was one of the very few times that the four family members were able to visit together, now that Rory had been at Yale for two years. Rory was secretly relieved that the relationship between her mother and grandmother had remained relatively steady, even when she had begun going to college. As they sat down, Emily asked, "Would you like anything to drink?"

"Soda, please," Rory answered, smiling. 

"Nothing for me." Lorelai smiled at her mother.

Emily frowned. "Are you sure?" she asked worriedly. "We have some wonderful white wine that I think you really should try."

"Alright, I'll have some of that then."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to drink some just because I told you to."

"No, it's fine, mom. I'll have some white wine."

"Alright, dear." 

Rory grinned inwardly. Some things never changed, of course. And that was the way she liked it. Emily handed them their glasses just as Richard came in. He looked over his glasses at Rory and smiled. 

"Rory!" he exclaimed happily. "How wonderful to see you."

"And you, grandpa," she smiled back at him. His happiness was contagious. 

"There's a book I'd like you to see," he said, turning back where he'd come from. "I forgot to bring it out with me, so if you don't mind…"

"Of course not." Rory stood and followed her grandfather into his study. When they walked in she glanced at the portrait of herself painted so long ago. At least, it felt that way. Really it had only been about three years. She smiled, pausing at her grandfather's desk as he walked over to one of the bookcases and took a book out. He walked back over to her.

"This," he began, "Is the only copy of _Le Journal de Lissa Guillame, who was one of our ancestors. She was the daughter of the Earl and Countess of Richmond in England; I thought you might like to read it." Rory's eyes had grown wide throughout his speech. "Lissa wrote it in French—it is believed that she did so because she loved the language more than her own English—but I know you'll be able to read it, especially after two years of French." He smiled at his granddaughter and handed the book to her. _

She held it almost reverently, and said very quietly, "Thank you so much, Grandfather. I … don't know what to say."

Richard waved his hand, brushing off the remark, his eyes twinkling. "Oh, it's fine."

They left the study and returned to the parlor. Dinner was quieter than usual, and both the younger Gilmores were anxious to leave. As they got into the car, Lorelai asked, "So, what did he want to give you?"

"_Le Journal de Lissa Guillame."_

"Really."

"Yeah."

"Huh."

***

Rory walked into her room, sighing. She was so tired… And why wouldn't she be? She'd kept it from her mother (Lorelai had enough romantic troubles as it was), but she'd just broken up with Rick, a junior she had been going out with. He'd wanted to take their relationship to the next level—and surprisingly enough, that level had _not_ been sex. No, he'd asked her to marry him. Her first proposal of marriage, and what had she said? No. She'd said no, because she was scared.

If she were honest with herself, and she always tried to be, she realized that it wasn't because she was scared. It was because of the past. Her past was beginning to catch up to her, and she didn't like it one bit. 

Jess…

Rory closed her eyes. She'd spent so long trying to forget him. 

Dean.

Tristan.

She just… She couldn't let go of her past. Dean was _married. Tristan… Well, she had no idea where Tristan was. And Jess… He was in California with his father, still. She wondered if they'd ever succeeded in having a better relationship with each other. She hoped so. She couldn't stand the thought of Jess being miserable._

Then again, she couldn't stand the thought of she herself being miserable. But that was what she was. She'd never explained to Rick her past, she'd never talked about past boyfriends… It had been too painful to bring up. She'd never healed. She'd never given herself time to heal. As soon as she'd broken up with Dean, she'd started going out with Jess… And with Jess, she had just… Tried to forget; pushed it as far away from her mind as possible. Tristan… Well, she couldn't believe she hadn't let go of that. They'd had _one kiss. _

Rory closed her eyes, once again pushing the memories from her mind. She took a deep breath, concentrating on nothing. Opening her eyes again, she glanced at the bed. She wanted to read that book. She sat down on her bed and opened it carefully. The pages were crisp, as though it hadn't been read lately—or even at all, possibly—which wasn't surprising, of course. Flipping to the first page, she started to read:

_Je suis la fille de la comtesse de Richmond. Je m'appelle Lissa Guillame…_


End file.
